by Gwyn McNamee
I grab my phone again and reread the message. I take a moment debating my response. After not speaking for so long, there are a thousand things I want to say, but none of them seem appropriate via text message.
< I miss you, too. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Tell me what you need. >
Those damn little dots appear, and knowing he has been waiting for my response warms my heart.
> You. I just need you. I need you to believe that we can figure this out. <
< I do. >
> I’m sorry I’m not ready yet. <
< It’s okay. >
A desperate desire to get home overwhelms me. Being in this place feels dirty, and guilt weighs heavy in the pit of my stomach.
What the fuck was I thinking? Why did I let Caroline talk me into coming here? This isn’t my life anymore.
I bolt out of the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door. I can’t get out of here fast enough. I hail a cab and don’t look back. My phone buzzes and I look down.
> I’ll talk to you soon, I promise. <
< You better. >
> I will. <
I smile and clutch my phone to my chest. Maybe there is a chance. Maybe there’s still hope for us. But maybe Caroline is right. I just don’t know.
This day won’t end. I stare at the words on my screen, but they all blur together. Relaxing back in my chair, I scrub my hands over my face and groan. Two more agonizing weeks, and still, nothing. No resolution of my story, no resolution of the Savage situation.
“What’s your problem?”
I spin my chair to face the door to my office and find Caroline leaning against the frame, arms crossed over her chest.
“Nothing, I just want to get the hell out of here.” She walks in and slides up onto my desk, crossing her legs and folding up like a pretzel.
She shrugs. “So leave.”
“I can’t yet. I just sent my article about the closing of the Spring Street Library to Doug and he hasn’t sent it back to me yet.”
She lets out an annoyed sigh and rolls her eyes. “What does it matter? You would just be going home to watch Netflix anyway, and you know it. Why don’t you hang around until I’m done and we can go grab dinner and some drinks instead?”
I hate to admit when Caroline is right, but she is. As soon as I walk in the door, I will be slipping into my sweatpants and returning to my White Collar marathon on Netflix. Matt Bomer is so damn hot. That dark, wavy hair, those piercing blue eyes…
Without even realizing it, the image of Matt morphs into Savage in my head.
“Hello? Earth to Danika…” Caroline waves her arms frantically in front of my face.
Knocking them down, I huff. “Stop it. I’ll go, okay?”
She grins and clasps her hands together. “All right, I should be done in about an hour. You want to go to Maxine’s?”
Maxine’s is a trendy martini bar and tapas restaurant right down the street from the paper. We used to frequent it before I started spending so much of my time with Savage. I haven’t been there in ages. Just thinking about their French onion soup has my mouth watering and stomach growling.
“Sounds good, now go finish up so we can get out of here.”
She smacks me upside the head as she slides off my desk.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask, watching her walk to the door.
“In case you were thinking about bailing, I feel like I need to remind you I have a very violent nature.” She grins and disappears around the corner into the hallway.
Things have been strained between us since that night at the club. We didn’t even talk for three days, which is an eternity for us. When I finally sucked it up and called her to apologize, she made me grovel and admit that she was just looking out for my best interests, even if I disagree with her.
Things aren’t the same, but they’re getting there. Slowly.
Spinning back to my desk, I check my email again for a reply from Doug. Nothing yet. I open my internet browser and start aimlessly reading celebrity gossip sites. Just because my life is boring as fuck doesn’t mean I can’t live vicariously and gain entertainment through their misguided life choices.
My phone beeps, indicating an incoming text.
Savage.
> I’m ready to talk. Can I see you tonight? <
The telltale burn of tears starts in my eyes and I squeeze them closed. No way I’m going to cry before I even hear what he has to say. I’ve cried too much as it is. Still, my stomach churns and my heart races at the thought of seeing him again, of sharing space with his imposing presence, of the possibility that this meeting may be our last, that we may say goodbye.
With shaking hands, I quickly shoot him a reply text.
< Yes. I can be there by 6. >
> See you then. <
I turn to my computer and am relieved to find the email I’ve been waiting for from Doug. I open it and groan. He wants some changes before he approves my article. I glance at the clock at the bottom of my screen. It’s already 5:10. I told Savage I would be there by six and it will take at last half an hour to get there this time of day. I better work fast. I open the article and scan the suggested changes. These shouldn’t take too long.
“You almost ready?”
Shit. Caroline. How the hell did I forget about her?
I spin around and find her at the door again, a grin on her face. “I busted through my work like a madwoman so we could get out of here.”
“Crap. Caroline…”
Shaking her head, she steps into my office, hands on her hips. “Oh, hell no, you are not bailing on me tonight.”
I sigh, running my hands back through my hair. I know this is going to be a fight no matter what I say. She still isn’t completely over what happened at the club, and even though we smoothed things over after the blowup, we are still on a bit of shaky ground right now. “Savage sent me a text. He wants me to come over so we can talk.”
Her anger-laden face relaxes slightly, and she drops her arms to her sides and mumbles something to herself. “You know how I feel about this whole situation with Savage, but you need to talk to him, so go. I’m not mad.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she says, stepping into me and wrapping her arms around me in a much-needed, comforting hug, “you need to sort your shit out with him, and it needs to happen sooner rather than later, for all our sanity’s sakes.”
I grin against her shoulder and squeeze her tight. “Thanks, Caroline. I owe you a night out.”
“You do.” She pulls away and grins at me. “Now go sort out the clusterfuck that is your relationship.”
“I need to finish some quick edits, and then my ass is outta here.”
“Get ‘er done!” she yells as she walks out the door.
That went better than expected. I return to my desk and quickly set to work on the edits. I’m racing through them like a madwoman, desperately trying to appease my editor while my mind is one hundred percent on Savage, not my work.
I get them done in record time and, just as I am shutting my computer down, my phone rings. I grab it, thinking it is probably Savage, but I see a “No Caller Info” message flash across the screen.
It isn’t unusual for me to get calls from blocked numbers. Most of my sources don’t want their identities revealed, and, even if they trust me not to reveal them, there’s always the risk of my phone records being subpoenaed and inadvertently outing them.
“Hello?”
I hear rustling on the other end, but no answer.
“Hello?” I ask again.
“Danika, it’s Paul. I need to see you.”
“Paul! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you for weeks. Is everything okay?”
I’ve searched high and low for him, using every contact I have to try to determine if he was still with Abello, left town, or checked out permanently. If he got caught, we both knew he would pay with his life. Abello wasn’t someone who knew the meaning of
the word “forgiveness.”
“I’m fine, I just had to lay low for a while. I got what you need. Meet me at the Olde Market.”
“Shit, right now?” I begin haphazardly throwing stuff into my purse.
“Yes, right now. I’ll meet you in twenty.”
Click.
The line goes dead before I have a chance to respond.
Fuck, fuck, triple fuck!
I’m supposed to meet Savage in half an hour. I’ve been waiting weeks for him to say he wants to talk. But I’ve been hunting down this story for almost a year, and it could make my career.
I slide back into my chair and finish the last couple edits before quickly sending the final off to the print department. Then, I shut down my computer, grab my bag, and race out of my office.
When I pass Caroline’s office, I wave.
“Good luck with Savage tonight,” she calls, walking out into the hallway and following me down to the bank of elevators.
“Oh, thanks, girl, but I’m not going over until later.” I push the down button and wait anxiously for the car to come all the way up to the twenty-fifth floor to get me.
She recoils. “What? Why not? Why are you racing out of here like crazy then?”
“My contact on that big story just called. I need to go meet him.”
“Wait, the one who basically disappeared for weeks?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, well, good luck!”
Ding. The doors slide open and I race in, pressing the lobby button and grinning at her.
“Thanks! This is going to be huge!” The doors slide closed and I begin my descent.
I grab my phone and pull up Savage’s number, hitting “Call” the second the doors open and I step into the lobby. It rings, and rings, and rings as I race across the shiny marble floor and out the revolving doors into the murky waning light of early evening.
“Come on, Savage, pick up.” I stop at the crosswalk and wait for the traffic signal so I can make it across Main Street to the parking structure.
“Hello, you have reached Savage Hawke. Leave a message.”
Shit. Why the hell isn’t he answering his phone?
“Savage, it’s me. I know I said I would be there by six, but something came up. I have to meet with someone first, but I will come over as soon as I’m done, I promise. I’ll call you when I am on my way. I can’t wait to see you.”
I climb into my car and peel out of the parking structure, making the twenty-minute drive to the Olde Market building in less than fifteen, despite the traffic. Good thing I didn’t see any cops along the way. I probably would have lost my license for reckless driving. The thought I might be finally getting the information I need to blow this story wide open has my heart and mind racing. Knowing I’ll also be seeing Savage tonight has my stomach churning. I have no idea what this means, but, good or bad, it needs to happen. Living in limbo is killing me.
I pull up to the curb outside the Olde Market on Riverside which, appropriately enough, runs along the Mississippi River and used to house a bustling harbor. In the last ten years, the shipping business has migrated more to trucks than boats, and slowly, the businesses along the river have closed. The Olde Market used to be a busy fish and produce market. It was the best place in town to get fresh-caught seafood and had the freshest fruits and vegetables you could find. That ended four years ago, when it closed its doors for good. The building was pretty well known. The giant, red tomato on top of the warehouse used to light up and spin, making it visible from almost anywhere in town.
My dad used to bring Nora and me here every Saturday morning, if he wasn’t working. We would pick up what we needed for dinner that night. It was just Dad and us girls and I looked forward to it all week. Any time I spent with my father was special, but for some reason, leaving Mom at home and coming out here as a kid to meander among the stalls felt like something truly spectacular.
Looking at it now, you would never guess it used to have thousands of customers coming and going all week. The once clear and shining glass windows of the building are now all grimy and shattered. The infamous tomato is no longer lit or turning, its red facade covered in dirt and dust.
God, it’s depressing.
I glance at my phone. It’s almost six. Grabbing my purse, I climb out of the car and walk up to chain-link fence surrounding the property. Looking up and down the length of the fence, there doesn’t appear to be any opening to gain entry onto the property.
How the fuck does Paul expect me to get in there?
Continuing down the sidewalk to the south, I come across a portion of the fence pulled away from the pole enough for someone to slip through it.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I look down at my floaty, mid-thigh length dress covered by my trench coat, and my pumps, and curse Paul. If I tear this dress or break a heel, I will kill him, I don’t care how much I need this information.
The wire fencing pushes back easily and I slip through the opening. Managing to emerge unscathed, I check my phone to make sure I didn’t somehow miss a return call or text from Savage, but find nothing. I look around the vast parking lot, but nothing is moving except for a plastic bag blowing across the wasteland toward the dumpsters by the far corner of the building. At least it’s headed in the right direction.
Let’s make this quick.
I hurry across the parking lot toward the closest side of the building, where I can see a door is slightly ajar. As I approach, my phone begins to buzz in my hand and I look down to find Savage calling.
“Savage…”
Just as I answer, the door flies open and Paul grabs my arm, pulling me inside the building with a quick jerk. I almost drop my phone, and am about to tell Savage I can’t talk, when I see who else is in the building.
Slipping my phone into the pocket of my trench coat, I pray the call stayed connected and Savage can hear what’s going on.
“Hello? Danika?”
I just got out of the shower and found a message from her telling me she would be late. I don’t care, as long I get to see her, but I wanted to find out if she had already eaten or if I should have something ready for her, so I called her back right away.
Rustling noises and footsteps echo in the phone, but she isn’t responding.
“Ms. Eriksson, so nice of you to join us.” The male voice is somewhat muffled, but it’s familiar.
Who the fuck is that?
“What’s going on?” That voice I would know anywhere—Danika. She sounds muffled, too. Her phone must be in her purse or something.
I wonder if she knows it’s still connected?
“Don’t play dumb, Ms. Eriksson. It doesn’t suit you. You know precisely why we’re here.”
The voice, I know I recognize it. I’ve heard it before, and it’s dancing around in the back of my mind, just out of reach.
I listen, straining to hear anything else, but all I get is more rustling and garbled words.
“Get your fucking hands off me!”
My hand clenches around the phone. Dani. She’s in trouble. I press “Mute” and turn on speaker phone.
I head for the front door and race across the hall to Gabe’s.
“There’s no need to be so rude, Ms. Eriksson. We’re just here to have a little chat.”
Without knocking, I open the door and find him sitting at the kitchen counter, a spoon halfway up to his mouth. “What the fuck, dude?” He raises an eyebrow and drops the spoon into his bowl.
“Danika’s in trouble.” I set my phone on the counter next to him.
“Bullshit,” she says, her rage evident even through the muffled connection, “the people you have ‘friendly chats’ with are usually never seen again.”
Her words turn my blood to ice in my veins as I finally make the connection to the voice. Matteo Cortesi—Abello’s right-hand goon.
What the fuck is she doing with him?
“Shit, Gabe, she’s with Matteo Cortesi.”
&n
bsp; Gabe shoves his stool back and drops his bowl into the sink. “Where is she?”
“I don’t fucking know. She said she had to meet someone before she came over here, and then I called her back and I heard she was in trouble.”
“Shit, do you think Caroline would know?”
“Maybe.” I’ve been listening to Danika’s conversation with Matteo while I explain what’s happening to Gabe. So far, a reference to someone named Paul and an article are all I’ve been able to make out, nothing useful to us.
Gabe disappears down the hallway toward his bedroom and I continue to listen, my entire body screaming to get the fuck out of here and to find her.
“…he didn’t tell me anything. I don’t know anything that could hurt Mr. Abello.”
Fuck, why didn’t she tell me she was doing a story on Abello?
I would’ve warned her off, made it very clear he wasn’t someone to be fucked with.
“You really expect me to believe you don’t have anything damaging on him? Nice try, sweetheart, but Paul already confessed everything he told you. The only question now is who else you’ve told.”
“I haven’t told anyone anything…”
Gabe reemerges in black cargo pants and a tight, long-sleeve black t-shirt, his rifle case over one arm and two handguns strapped into the holster around his shoulders. His phone is pressed to his ear and he nods. “Okay, got it. Thanks, Caroline.”
“Did you find her?”
He sets the rifle case on the coffee table and unzips it, pulling out his .300 Win Mag and quickly checking it over. Gabe rarely discusses his time as Army Ranger sniper, but I know he was good enough to receive two silver stars for his service. Knowing he’s backing me up on this should ease my tension and fear, but it doesn’t, not when Danika’s life is in danger.
“Yeah, Caroline said she was going to meet a source, but she didn’t know where. I asked her if Danika had the ‘find my phone’ app. Turns out she does and Caroline was able to guess her password. The phone is down on Riverside Drive at the Olde Market building.”
“Shit, it will take us at least ten minutes to get down there.”
“Let’s go,” he says, repacking the rifle and grabbing his keys, “I’ll call the police. You keep listening so I can give them an update on what’s happening.”